


Maybe, Just Maybe

by Malevelynce



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Christmas Cookies, Cookies, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), baking cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malevelynce/pseuds/Malevelynce
Summary: Hunk is aghast that Keith has never made Christmas cookies before and is determined to help him make his first batch. Will Keith's inexperience in the kitchen lead to some unintended chemistry?





	Maybe, Just Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is for the Heith Secret Santa!  
> I wrote this for my secret santa @breezy-chu on tumblr <3  
> I hope you enjoy this piece!

Hunk shook his head, aghast. “There’s no way. You’ve  _ never _ made Christmas cookies before?”

Keith shrugged, turning away from Hunk in an attempt to hide his blush. “It just, uh, never really came up?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, trying to act like the conversation about his past Christmases wasn’t ruffling his feathers. “I mean, I eat cookies on Christmas Eve, obviously, but I would just buy them from the store . . .”

With a wicked smile, Hunk immediately started pulling things out of the cupboards, metal bowls clattering against the counter, a mixer materializing from a cabinet Keith didn't know existed, a variety of utensils piling up, a cookbook fluttering open. And last but not least, Hunk raised two aprons in the air, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Here, the red one is for you,” Hunk announced as Keith stammered something incoherent that Hunk chose to disregard. “Okay, first of all, why don’t we start with some chocolate chips cookies, the classic, right? And then we can . . .”

Keith took the apron from him and stopped listening. There was something about the glint in Hunk’s eyes that drew Keith away from his words and settled his mind on the way his lips moved, the way his hair was scattered, the way his fingers splayed as he spoke passionately. It was adorable, all of it. And Keith couldn’t get enough.

“Sound good?” Hunk prompted, rousing Keith from his daydreams

With a smile and light laugh, Keith admired Hunk with a fond eye. Slipping the apron over his head, he coughed into his hand, trying to will away his blush, looking down at himself. He felt foolish in the apron while Hunk’s deft fingers tied a swift knot, the yellow fabric complimenting every curve of Hunk’s body. And it definitely didn't help when Keith’s trembling fingers couldn't manage to tie the apron closed behind his back, fumbling with the material.

Obviously, that was when Hunk decided to pull himself out of the cookbook. With a smile and an exhaled laugh, Hunk took the few steps to stand behind Keith and gently took the ties out of his hands, fingers brushing, electricity sparking. The shorter boy clenched his fingers into fists, attempting to hide his nervous shaking. Gentle hands tied a bow at the small of Keith's back, a quick squeeze of his shoulder and Hunk was back at the cookbook, Keith’s skin tingling with the sensation.

“Alright! Keith,” Hunk brought his eyes out of the cookbook and set his gaze on Keith, a smile in the irises, a cheekiness in the eyebrows. “Do you know what comes first?”

Taken aback, Keith wiped his sweaty palms on the apron. He was more nervous than he was readily able to admit to himself. It wasn't just the silly crush he had on Hunk and his amazing biceps and adorably kind personality, it was also due to the fact that the last time he had tried to cook something, it had been eggs. And before that, it had been eggs. And guess what? He only really knew how to make eggs.

Keith really didn't want to mess up in front of Hunk. It wasn’t like Keith had much of a reputation for being cool or suave or anything like that (after all, Hunk  _ was _ the one who helped him out of a tree when he got stuck in the park, and the one who watched him belly flop off the high dive after a really, really bad flip), but he wanted to keep the few strands of dignity he had left.  “Uh. B-butter?”

Butter?! He could whack himself upside the head. What the hell? Butter?! Out of the options, the thing that comes out of his mouth is butter. He was pretty sure that you used butter in cookies, but compared to the things like flour and eggs and milk, the thing he picked was goddamn butter.

“Nope!” Hunk singsonged, waving a finger in his face. “Washing hands and the work space is always the first and last thing you do in the kitchen.” Keith nodded solemnly, trying not to laugh at the seriousness of Hunk's words.

Fluttering heart and nervous hands, Keith pulled up the sleeves to his sweater, scooting next to Hunk and sharing the water. Shoulders bumped, skin igniting as his heart thumped louder in his chest. 

It was so stupid.

But maybe, just maybe, Hunk's reluctance to let their shoulders disconnect meant that he too craved for them to be together. Perhaps the look in Hunk’s eyes was filled with the same type of adoration and compassion that filled Keith’s. He didn't want to let himself hope, but he didn’t want to take the dive into the unknown, didn’t want to risk the possibility of falling short instead of falling into Hunk’s warm embrace.

Right now, though, Hunk  _ was _ warm, pressed up against his shoulder as they shared the faucet, water tumbling over their hands, soap suds swirled down the drain, both taking the extra moment to stay close. With a tight laugh and a bright smile, Hunk turned the water off and grabbed for a towel, dripping a few fat droplets onto the ground.

With a cheeky smile, Hunk handed the towel off to Keith, telling him, “Now, it's time for the butter.” The shorter boy blushed and nodded, ready to learn how to make cookies.

He listened to Hunk, measuring out certain amounts of flour, sugar, and baking soda in one bowl, with all the liquids in another. Keith had the question on his tongue when Hunk started mixing the liquids and handed a whisk for Keith to stir the dry. “You keep them separated at first so you can add the powder mixture little by little and it makes the cookies fluffier!” Hunk announced cheerfully, sending a toothy smile Keith's way.

Keith nodded slowly, smiling a small, tentative smile as he worked the whisk through the dry ingredients. With small motions, Keith knocked some of the dry mix into the bowl Hunk had the liquids in, trying not to drop in too much as per his instructions.

Slowly, Keith added all the powder and Hunk was working through the dough, handing it off for Keith to do while he fetched the chocolate chips from the counter. “You want to?” he asked with a smile, semi-sweet morsels hanging in the air.

With a small nod, Keith took the bag from Hunk, who began to mix the dough once again while Keith ripped the bag open. And he poured out way too many chocolate chips directly into the batter. Like, _ way _ too many. Hunk cringed but tried to repress it as Keith’s eyes went wide, going from the horrific mountain of chocolate to Hunk’s strangled expression. Swallowing awkwardly, Keith realized what he had done and what he had to do to fix it.

So he grabbed a handful of the chocolate chips from atop the dough and went to drop them into the bag when Hunk’s hysterical scream scared him enough to flip the chocolate chips all around the kitchen. “What are you  _ doing _ ?!” His voice was pinched and extremely high-pitched as his words seemed to be suffocated out of him, his eyes wider than the moon, his eyebrows in a disastrous arch.

Horrified at himself and yet still unsure where the root of the problem lay, Keith jumped back from the bowl, feeling a chocolate chip poke into the heel of his foot. “I’m sorry!” Embarrassment flared in his throat as Hunk dropped the whisk into the dough and all but doubled over. Was he so mortified by Keith’s actions that he couldn’t even bear to look at him?

But then, he noticed the shaking of Hunk’s shoulders and how he covered his mouth with one hand, attempting to stifle his laughter and failing miserably. “Oh. My. God.” Hunk put his hands on his knees and let out a long, shaky sigh, chuckles coating the edges of it. “You really are a mess, huh?” His dark brown eyes boring into Keith’s grey ones, his flush from laughter, Keith’s from embarrassment.

Lacking something to say just made the heat rise to his face even faster, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off Hunk’s, chocolate chips like confetti all around them, questionable cookie dough on the counter. “So I shouldn’t stick my hands in the dough, huh?” Keith asked, finally ripping his eyes off Hunk’s and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, digging his big toe into the tile floor and ignoring the half-melted chocolate chip stuck to the bottom of his sock.

“Yeah, and you definitely should not have tried to put them  _ back _ in the bag. That’s not quite baking safe, babe.”

Keith’s eyes shot up and caught the look of panic on Hunk’s face for a split second before he turned the slightest bit away and tightened his headband, flush high on his cheekbones. Keith didn’t quite believe what he heard and shook his head to convince himself that the pet name hadn’t really been a pet name, or if it were, it wasn’t endearing in anyway.

But maybe, just maybe, the slipup was truly a misspoken name that lived inside Hunk’s head, daydreams making their way to reality. Perhaps the fluttering in Keith’s chest was shared by the one it fluttered for. He didn’t want to let himself believe, but hope lived on inside him, desire for something more than what already existed.

“So . . . uh, do we need to try again?” Keith asked awkwardly, praying that his mistake wouldn’t cost them the entire batter.

Hunk smiled, wiping his hands down on his apron and shaking his head. “Nah, it’s all good, most of the chocolate chips in question are on the ground anyway.” With a wink, Hunk’s voice seemed to pitch into a deeper, darker inflection, the words rolling off his tongue, “We’ll let this one slide.”

And the  _ wink _ ? Holy shit, Keith could melt.

“So, um, next we put them on baking sheets, right?” Keith tentatively asked, following Hunk and wiping his hands on the apron.

Hunk smiled and nodded before looking all around the kitchen, struggling against a smile. “We should probably grab a broom first.” With a choked laugh, Keith snatched the broom from the closet and the two made quick work of the mess. Hunk grabbed the baking sheets and parchment paper while Keith shoved the broom back in the closet.

“I have a scooping tool to make all the cookies the same size, and to avoid touching the dough too much,” he told Keith with a shake of his head and a laugh as he held the scoop out to him. Keith pursed his lips and crossed his arms, avoiding Hunk’s pointed look.

Snatching the tool out of Hunk’s hands, Keith grabbed a huge spoonful, dough piled high and way outside the limits of the scoop. Hunk, before Keith had the chance to plop the monstrosity onto the cookie tray, gently slid his warm fingers around Keith’s own.

Keith suppressed every jolt running through him as Hunk guided his hands through the motions, scraping the excess dough into the side of the bowl, the space between their bodies alive with electricity. With a deep breath, Keith shifting the smallest bit backward, Hunk’s hips pressing into the small of Keith’s back. Feeling nothing but the sparks at each intersection of skin against skin, body against body, Keith was certain Hunk could feel him shaking.

But maybe, just maybe, the way Keith’s curves matched with Hunk’s, fitting together so perfectly, was meant to be. The aching in his chest waned as Hunk’s fingers led Keith’s, a neat row of five balls of dough sitting on the tray.

“Now you try,” Hunk encouraged with a smile as bright as the sun. Keith’s heart was beating fast in his chest, and all he knew was that he didn't want Hunk to part from him. He didn't want to lose the heat pressing up against him, the warm fingers intertwined with his own.

Heart pounding, hoping his hands weren't too sweaty, Keith let the scoop fall into the dough as he twirled around, his eyes level with Hunk’s chin. Hunk took a stuttering step backwards, his face flushing, but Keith matched his step, keeping their fingers twisted together, chest against chest.

Nervous hands, Keith felt trembling fingers slowly pull apart from his own before tracing down the side of Keith’s body. All tentative movements and blushing cheeks, Keith wrapped his arms around Hunk’s neck, all but going up on his tiptoes. Hunk, in turn, brought both his hands to small of Keith’s back, pressing him even more against him.

Keith's eyes explored Hunk’s face, memorizing every angle, every plane, every which way the light hit his features. Gently, Keith pushed up on his toes, drawing Hunk toward him. Hunk responded in kind, tightening his hold on Keith.

Maybe, just maybe, sparks ignited.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Shout out to my beta @communikate , go check out her works :)  
> Happy Holidays!


End file.
